(no subject)

[headed4hell]

“You tired?”

“You?”

“I’m… GRAAAAAAH! You bit me, Grace!”

“Yeah, Earl. I did. And guess what? Angel tastes like chicken. God’s own secret recipe. Now c’mon. Get up.”


~ ~ ~


“Gus, Gus, Gus, Gus, Gus, Gus.”

Gus swung his large head away from the sea of crime scene photos on the living room floor. Grace, one hand curled around a glass of Jack Daniels and the other holding a partially smoked cigarette badly in need of an ashtray, smiled at him.

“I've got some good suspects, Gus." Gus barked. “Remember that beagle Sally who couldn't decide between you and that goofy rottweiler? You wanted to kill him, didn't you?"

Gus barked again, as if the answer should have been obvious. Laughing hard enough to snort, Grace pulled her legs, clad in youth-sized long johns, in and rested the glass on her chest, between the folds of her cotton robe. At least she thought it was her robe. Might’ve been Charlie’s, before he went back to Tuscon.

Or Bill’s. Whatever. The damn thing was hers now.

“I know, I know. Beagles are dumb.” Another bark, but this one had a different tone. “What, you need to go wee wee?”

“Think he’s barkin’ at me.”

Ash spilled over Grace’s hand. Looking up, she saw Earl leave her kitchen, snacking on her Frosted Flakes.

“Uck. You can’t keep doin’ this, man.”

“Hey Gus. Hey buddy.” The traitorous dog jumped off the ottoman and practically climbed in Earl’s lap. Anything for an ear rub. Grace couldn’t really blame him, the more she thought about it.

“I’m busy, Earl.” Grace took a long pull on her cigarette to emphasize her point.

“I know,” said Earl. “You guys are always busy.”

Grace flipped over on her stomach to half-ask, half-demand, “What do you want.”

Earl’s spoon scraped along the bottom of his bowl, and he shoveled the soggy cereal in his mouth. “Oh, I’m just checkin’ in. Seeing how the new life’s going.” He talked with his mouth full.

“Why d’you eat if you’re not human?” Grace asked, slitting her eyes at him over her glass.

“Well, that’s a job perk,” Earl said. “I was in Saudi Arabia this afternoon. Had some of the best sushi I’ve ever eaten. In Saudi Arabia.”

“That where you got the t-shirt? You had on a different one this morning.” This shirt was black with white letters she couldn’t read, which only annoyed her more.

Earl stood and grinned down at it, haphazardly setting his bowl on the bar. “Cool, huh? Picked it up in Pakistan. Got a real hornet’s nest over there, man.”

“Over there with Allah?”

“Well you say tomato, I say tomato.”

Grace frowned. “So you been in Saudi Arabia, Pakistan and Oklahoma City today.”

“London, Lubbock, New Orleans,” Earl told her, shrugging like a trucker on a long haul who could barely remember where he left his house, “Cleveland, Bombay. Oh, and Fraaaaance. Gonna be spending a lot of time in France.”

He looked almost eager about that, and Grace started to get mad. More ash fell to the couch cushion as she kicked her legs back and forth, as if doing her best impression of a girl at a slumber party trying to get her toenails to dry.

“What about Milliways?”

“The place on Melrose? Not since Thursday.”

Grace’s eyes narrowed further.

“This any good?” Earl had found Rhetta’s book, God’s Army, the one Grace had surreptitiously retrieved before stumbling out of Milliways, back into Major Crimes. (“Where you been, Grace?” Ham had wanted to know. As if she could say anything more than “Smoking. Shit. What’ve we got?”)

“You tell me.” Asshole.

“You first.” An ominous peal of thunder made her smirk up at him; he almost smiled back. “How’d it go with Ham? You guys have a talk?”

Snorting, Grace shook her head in disbelief and wiped her mouth on the wrist of the hand holding the Jack. The strong whiskey fumes tickled her nose and the back of her throat, so she answered into the glass, mid-sip. “Nothin’ to talk about. We’re having sex, that’s it.” She set the glass on the floor and started to turn over again.

“Well there's his marriage, his wife, his conscience, your conscience. God and how he feels about the whole mess-“

“God cares if I'm sleeping with a married man?” Grinning, she slowly raised both legs in the air, making like she was going to touch one foot to his chest.

Earl rolled his eyes hard to the right. “AIDS in Africa and the Middle East, Grace and Ham. We was just talking about it this morning."

Grace cracked up and pushed herself to her feet. “You ever had sex, Earl?”

“No,” Earl answered flatly, turning away.

“You eat our food, wear our clothes. Why not?”

“Well, uh." A pause. "Wings would get in the way!” He let loose one of those laughs that made him sound one bad Rorschach test away from the psych ward.

Lunging forward, Grace pushed him hard in the chest, back toward the kitchen. “You got a big mouth,” she snapped. “Can you back it up?” She pushed him again, harder, hands slapping against the iron-on letters on his new shirt.

Earl’s expression hardened. “Hey, you start a fight with me there's only one way it's going to end, girl."

“Yeah. I kick your ass,” Grace declared, tossing her head and a stray piece of hair out of her eyes.

“Nope. You surrender.”

“Never.” Her challenging smirk widened. “You sent me to the end of the damn universe, Earl. I figure I'm owed a few licks.”

“How d’you know that was me, Grace?” Earl began to back up, loosen his stance.

“What, you guys got a tag team?”

Silence.

“First one to pin the other for ten seconds?” Earl proposed at last.

Grace rocked from foot to foot, holding her arms wide, and got ready to charge. Angel or not, she was going to hand him his heavenly ass. “Bring it on, Earl.”

“Uh, wait. I think we're going to need more room.”

Out came his wings in a flash of light. Dammit, thought Grace.


~ ~ ~


The top of the mountain was wide and high, and ringed by marble columns. Earl bounced on the soles of his feet and began to circle her. Grace was more unsteady, but it had nothing to do with the Jack.

“Shit man,” she managed shakily.

“Better?”

“Where are we?”

“Athens,” Earl answered, straightening long enough to take off his jacket and flannel shirt. Like they could get more wrinkled. “O-lympic wrestling!”

“Athens!” Grace stared at him. “What, like a crapload of years ago?”

“Noooo.” Mid-crouch, Earl pointed off into the distance. "Cell phone tower."

Grace flicked her gaze in the same direction, then back to him. “Whatever. You ready?”

“You betcha!”

Throwing herself forward in a move that would’ve made Barry Switzer proud, Grace rammed her shoulder into Earl’s chest and took him down.


~ ~ ~


“Auuuuuugh!”

The only way Earl managed to take a breath was to roll over Grace, belly up, and steal hers. But it didn’t last long. She was unpredictable, tough and not afraid to cheat. That’s why he was there, after all. Grace grabbed hold of his nostrils and pulled.

“Ow, my nose!” yelped the angel.

Grace just yelled back, pushed him off and clotheslined him again the first chance she got.


~ ~ ~


Earl had her around the waist. Grace was bent double, smacking his shin, when he grabbed her waist and tried to haul her over his shoulder. Face red, he puffed for air. Snarling, she swung her legs up and over his head, then squeezed tight. And, just in case angels weren’t made like Ken dolls, she added an elbow to the groin. Earl dropped her and crashed to the mosaic under their feet.

Grace recovered enough to come at him again, but Earl threw out a hand to stop her.

“Time,” he gasped. “Gettin' tired?”

“Are you?” They’d been through this a few times now.

“Wanna rest for a while?”

“Sure.” Grace collapsed, spread eagle. She couldn't even muster the energy to notice the way Earl was still clutching himself.

"You're gonna fight me every step of the way, ain’t ya?”

“Yeah,” was Grace’s firm and ready answer.

“But why?” Earl practically whined.

“Because I don't believe there's a god who cares if I'm screwing a married man,” she panted. “No trip to the Grand Canyon, Athens or the fuckin’ end of the universe is gonna change that.”

“What about you carin’, Grace? Let's start there. Do you care enough to talk to the guy? That's all.”

He should’ve known better. He really should’ve known better. Bringing up the subject of talking to Ham just rekindled her mad. Chin thrust out, she rolled to her feet and motioned for him to do the same. “Come on. Get up.”

Earl just looked at her and admitted, "I've had about enough of this, Grace."

“You givin’ up?” Grace was triumphant, despite the exhaustion lining her face and the way she stumbled sideways.

“I give up, I lose my job.”

She threw off her robe -- it had been hanging off her left side anyway -- and wiped her hands on her faded blue T-shirt. "Then come on. Get up. You old man. Angel. Get up!"

Earl dragged himself to all fours, and Grace reached down to tug him the rest of the way. Once he was standing, she hit him hard with a straight arm across his torso, like he was a punching bag, and grabbed his wrist as he started to fall. Instinct and habit took over, and she twisted it behind his back, reaching for the other. Too bad she left her handcuffs in Oklahoma City.

A sharp crack stopped her cold. Shocked, she tumbled to the ground beside him and found herself unable to move. Breathing hard, she yelled “What the hell?” and struggled to rise.
Her right arm was gone. Gone.

“Where's my arm?” Eyes wide and confused, she felt her side and along the ground. “You just stole my arm!” Her cheek made a loud smacking noise when it hit the tile again.

Earl groaned and pushed himself upright. "I've got to get back to Cleveland."

Grace flopped around like a newly caught fish. “But. You cheated. What the hell kind of angel are you?”

“A tired one,” he said. “Plum darn tired. Patty in Cleveland is always happy when I show up. Etienne, in France, we have tea and play chess, talk about the great mysteries of the universe!” He paused to suck in another breath. “Why’re you the only one I ever had to wrestle?”

“Earl.” Grace watched him stand. “Earl.”

His wings extended out from his back and another flash of light lit the pink and blue Greek sky. “EARL!”


~ ~ ~


There was hair in Grace’s mouth when she came to, face pressed against her striped couch cushion. She spit it out. Eyes rotating down, she saw dirt and bruises smearing the skin of her left arm.

Her mind told her she should have another arm on her right side, but she couldn’t feel it.

Frantic, Grace sat up and grabbed at her right shoulder. Her arm fell forward from where it had been pressed under her and wedged against the back of the couch. Pins and needles shot from her collarbone to the tips of her fingers and she heaved a giant sigh of relief.

She had two arms.

She also had a huge pain in the ass that went by the name of Earl.

Both of these truths were reason enough for a damn drink.


[Scene and most dialogue are from Season 1, Episode 2: "Bring it on, Earl." ]